Dead Girl Walking
by Sorrel
Summary: Post Flooded, Spike is hit with a spell that turns him into a girl, and Xander looks a bit harder than he ought. SpikeXander SLASH.
1. Venus

**Part One: Venus.

* * *

**

Spike had made many mistakes in his unlife. First and foremost in his mind were the many times he'd gone up against the Slayer with absolutely no plan and had gotten his arse royally kicked. He tended to gloss over those times quickly though, not actually wanting to remember those in too much detail, and remembered the little things.

Like the one time he'd died his hair purple, and had been laughed at for a week straight before he'd given up and bleached it out again. Like getting into fights with Angelus over Dru- because God knows that ever got him anywhere. All the times he'd gotten so drunk he'd barely made it to shelter before the sun rose.

You know, little things.

This time, however, it wasn't his fault. He was bloody sure of that much, at least. It was Buffy's fault, was what it was, and he wished for the thousandth time that he wasn't so damned wrapped around her littlest finger the way he was, because if he'd never fallen for her, he wouldn't currently be standing in the middle of the Magic Box, wearing ill-fitting clothes and trying to pretend that the whole bloody Scooby gang wasn't staring at him and trying not to burst into laughter over the fact that he was now a soddin' _girl._

It happened like this:

He and the Slayer had been out on patrol, making sweeps through the cemetery. Not talking, just walking side by side, all comfortable-like. Sure, Spike wished that she would love him the way that he loved her, but since she'd made it bloody clear that he was never gonna get _that_ wish, he was happy to just spend time with her, fighting by her side instead of getting punched in the nose. She seemed to be happy just to have someone to be with where she didn't have to pretend that everything was fine and that she'd been pulled out of some terrible Hell dimension instead of the peace of Heaven. He couldn't help but notice that she gravitated more and more towards his side these days, and even though he knew it was just because she didn't have to lie when she was with him, it made him happy anyway.

So he was patrolling with Buffy, not really expecting to find anything since the cemetery had been really damned quiet the whole night, when they ran into the demon. Normally this would have just been a nice bit of sport, a way to maybe work off a little steam, but this demon was different. Spike recognized the bugger at once, and made sure to grab Buffy and haul ass out of there before it could pound on them anymore than it already had.

When he deemed that they were far enough away to be safe, he gave in to the increasingly painful jerks on his arm and slowed to a stop. It took him a minute, but she finally stopped yelling at him for running away long enough to explain that it was a Garbresh demon, extremely powerful and unkillable except with magic. Which meant that they were lucky to escape with just bruises, and that it was time to go find Willow.

So she went to the Magic Box to explain to Giles what the hell happened, and sent Spike off to Revello Street, where the witches were having their big night in. Seems shy little Tara had gotten a bit pissy recently, on account of Willow using her magic more than she should, or somesuch, and Red had gotten everyone out of the house for the night so that she could stage some big seduction scene to jolly the Good Witch of the West out of her bad mood.

And Spike was sorry to interrupt her- well, not that sorry- but there was a deadly demon rampaging around Sunnydale, and he thought that he needed her skills a bit more than Glenda's girly bits did. So he tested the door, found it unlocked for some ungodly reason, and rushed right in.

This was a mistake. He admitted that he probably should have knocked or something, but how was he to know that little Willow would be doin' the down 'n dirty right there on the living room couch? And how was he to know that she would react to his sudden entrance with a completely instinctive blast of magic?

Of course, considering what she was doing when she was interrupted, her magic was rather focused on sex. Or at least girls. Which was probably why things happened like they happened.

But it wasn't his _fault,_ damn it all to soddin' hell. Sure, he'd made a little mistake in barging in without knockin' or anything, but if the fault lay with anyone, it lay with Red and her soddin' spell blast. And maybe a bit of Buffy's fault for sending him there in the first place.

Either way, it had the same result. He was getting' punished for being the good guy, _again._ He was getting really tired of that.

Red went off to deal with the demon, while Tara went rummaging through closets to get him some of Willow's castoffs. The jeans fit fine, but even her loosest t-shirt strained over his newly bountiful chest, so Tara found one of her flowy wrap thingies and draped it over him. He grabbed a pair of Dawn's sneakers- knew the Niblet wouldn't mind- and made for the Magic Box, Tara trailing not that far behind, still trying to tell him that things were gonna be fine, and Willow'd get him fixed in no time, and had she mentioned that things were gonna be fine?

All of which led to this, his newest humiliation in a life that had become nothing but humiliations. He stood there, crossed his arms over his chest, tried not to wince at the new flesh there, and glared back at all of the damned Scoobies who looked like they were about two seconds away from spontaneous combustion if they kept choking back their laughter like that.

All except Xander, Spike noticed with interest. Xander wasn't laughing. He was just standing there and staring, his mouth a little agape.

He wasn't laughing at all.


	2. Girlish Figure

**Part Two: Girlish Figure.

* * *

**

Xander knew that he should think this was funny. And sure, in a few seconds, the cosmic-level irony was going to hit him, and he was gonna start laughing his ass off.

Any time now.

He couldn't help staring, though. It wasn't just the concept of _Spike! Is a girl!_ that had him staring. It wasn't even the sight of Spike as a girl that was throwing him so much.

It was the way that girl-Spike _looked._

He'd been short as a guy, and apparently that was one of the things that translated over pretty well, because he barely topped 5'2". He made Xander feel like a giant, and at six feet, Xander wasn't exactly the tallest guy around.

Another thing that had translated over was his cheekbones. Those high, sharp-enough-to-draw-blood cheekbones, set in a female face that was softer and less angular, but slightly more tilted and exotic. His eyes were the same, with the same scar through his eyebrow, and his hair was the same length, but now fell into messy, natural spikes instead of being slicked back against his skull.

One thing that _hadn't_ changed over with him was the lean, flat planes of his torso. Instead he had rather... bountiful curves, including a fairly tiny waist, smoothly curving hips, and _extremely_ generous breasts, of which Xander could see far more than he wanted to let himself see, what with the loose drape of Tara's shirt and Spike's braless state. Xander, thankfully for his sanity, couldn't see what Spike's ass looked like, but he was willing to be that it, too, was an example of feminine perfection, just like the rest of him.

"-Xander will have to take him in."

"Huh?" Xander's head snapped around to stare at Buffy, who had been speaking. "What's this about me and the bleached wonder?"

Buffy sighed. "Weren't you listening? We can't leave Spike alone like this. I can't take him in- Giles is already sleeping on the couch, and Willow and Tara are in the spare rooms. The only one who lives alone is you."

"And me," Anya pointed out. "But I won't let Spike in my apartment. He'll get blood on the counters and track mud over my carpet."

"And we can't have that, can we," Buffy muttered under her breath, then added, louder, "So you see, Xander, that you'll have to be the one to put him up for a while."

"No, I don't see," he said. "Why can't he stay in his crypt? For that matter, why can't Willow just turn him back?"

"You really weren't listening, were you?" Buffy said, sounding tired. Xander winced a little inside- she always sounded tired these days, but this couldn't be helping. He resolved to be the good guy, the stand-up trustworthy Xan-man, and take a little of the burden off of her already overloaded shoulders. "Willow can't turn him back until the new moon, which is two weeks from now. Something about natural cycles or something. And we can't leave him alone in his crypt. Have you looked at him?"

Xander had, indeed, looked at him.

"What if some drunken frat-boy gets a little overenthusiastic? He can't defend himself against humans."

As much as he hated to admit it, he saw Buffy's point. Spike, with his new female good looks, was just the sort of tempting treat some of the more aggressive cruisers that Sunnydale University had to offer would love to get ahold of. Spike couldn't stay on his own, which meant that he had to stay with someone else. And, unfortunately for Xander's libido, that "someone else" appeared to be him.

"Alright," he said, and saw the shock leap across Buffy's features. What, he couldn't do the right thing occasionally? Thanks for the confidence, Buff. Just because he hated Spike's guts didn't meant that he didn't feel kinda sorry for the guy. Xander couldn't even imagine what it would be like to wake up with breasts, and Spike, who was easily the most masculine man Xander had ever met, had to be majorly freaking out.

"Xander, are you sure?" Willow asked, and he cast her an irritable glance. Sure, she said she was sorry for what she did, but he kinda wished that she would just stay quiet for now, since the whole damn mess was her fault.

"Yeah, I'm sure. C'mon, Blondie. Looks like you're crashing at my place tonight."

"Oi! Anyone gonna bother to ask me what I want to do?" Spike's voice was different, too- not so much higher, per say, as lighter, though it still had the very slight smoker's rasp. Not that Xander had been paying an undue attention to Spike's voice, of course.

"No," Xander answered him, making sure to keep his voice cheerful and mocking, to mask the pity that he felt. He knew that Spike wouldn't appreciate it. "You get no choice, Bleachjob. You're coming home with me."

"Just what I always wanted, Mum," Spike muttered, and followed him out of the shop.


	3. Chick Flick

**Part Three: Chick Flick

* * *

**

Spike stood in the middle of Xander's living room, watching as the man made a makeshift bed for Spike on the couch. Xander was so occupied with the task at hand that he wasn't really paying much attention to Spike, which left the newly female vampire plenty of time to watch Xander without getting caught.

It was a surprisingly pleasant occupation. It had been a long time since he'd really looked at Xander, and he'd forgotten how pleasant the view was.

In fact, it had been almost two years since he'd really looked at Xander, and even now he wanted to gnash his teeth at the memory. He'd been tied to that hellish chair in that hellish basement, and the only thing _to_ look at had been the boy. The first night, stretching on endlessly, staring at taught golden skin where he'd kicked off the blanket, his hands twitching in their bonds, able to look but not to touch. Redefining Hell, and he'd made himself forget about it later, because his unlife didn't need to get any more pathetic.

Unfortunately, he found himself unable to forget about it now. Sexually, his body was wired the same way it had been, as a male, only backwards. He still walked the straight side of bi, but now that meant that he preferred mostly men, and Xander was, whatever else his faults, definitely male. Spike's hands itched with the need to touch, and he shoved his hands in the pockets of his borrowed jeans to keep from giving in to the temptation.

Xander finally finished fussing with the makeshift bed and turned around, smiling a little at Spike. His smile was surprisingly… gentle, considering that he hated Spike. At the moment, though, his eyes weren't shooting miniature stakes of hate; they were inviting Spike to lean a little. Only pride built up from over a century of being on his own kept him from doing just that.

"Bed's ready," Xander said unnecessarily. He sort of waved one hand towards it, then returned both hands to his pockets, obviously feeling almost as uncomfortable as Spike was. "That is… if you're tired?"

"Not really," Spike said, hunching his shoulders in a half-shrug. "Nocturnal, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Long, uncomfortable silence. "Um, I don't have to work tomorrow 'cause it's a Saturday, so if you want I can stay up with you…"

"Don't need looking after," Spike snapped. "I'm fine."

"I didn't mean it like that," Xander said. "I just meant… I could keep you company. With movies, or whatever. If you wanted."

Spike thought about it for half a second. Considered his already annoying lust for the man. Considered how stupid he would look if he accepted, as if he needed someone to stay with him and hold his hand to keep him from getting hysterical like some chit. Then he considered that he _was_ a chit, and chances were good that Xander's presence _was_ the only thing holding him together right now, and how much he would hate it if Xander buggered off to bed and left him alone with his thoughts and his all-too-female body.

"Alright," he said. "Why the hell not."

* * *

It had to be four or five in the morning, Spike thought, but Xander showed no sign of wanting to be in bed instead of watching late-night _Law and Order_ reruns with Spike. Spike was grateful, though he'd rather have his intestines pulled through a needle than admit it.

He was paying more attention to Xander than the telly, though, and he wasn't oblivious to the fact that Xander was doing the same thing. They kept sneaking glances at each other when they thought the other wasn't looking, and both refused to acknowledge that they were doing it. Spike knew why Xander was playing coy- evil vampire, newly female, shame and disgust, blah soddin' blah- but he couldn't figure out why he was hiding it. He was _Spike._ He was never shy. About anything, much less about sex.

But this was different. He was still Spike, but he wasn't. He looked different, though he couldn't see himself in the mirror and dearly wanted to know what he looked like. He also felt different, though whether that was female hormones or just shock was yet to be determined. He was himself, but at the same time he was someone completely different, and that threw him off and left him not sure of what rules he was supposed to follow.

Finally Xander stretched and yawned. "Sun's gonna be up in another hour or so," he said. "And I really do not want to see it. Bad enough when I'm up researching all night, but sitting up watching tv till the sun rises reminds me way too much of freshman year of high school and the accompanying insomnia." He grinned over at Spike. "I practically sleepwalked through all my classes. Good thing I had Willow to help me out, right? Otherwise I'd probably still be in high school, trying valiantly to remember the difference between an isosceles triangle and a hypotenuse."

"Thought you blew it up," Spike said, casually, like the man's grin hadn't hit him like a fist to the solar plexus.

"Ah, that we did. Well, I don't know where I'd be, then." He stood up, stretched again. "Nor do I want to know. I have may regrets, but passing Geometry is not one of them."

Spike looked up at him. "Headin' to bed, then?"

"Yeah," Xander said. "You should probably do the same. Buffy's taking us shopping this afternoon, remember?"

"How could I forget?" Spike said. "Hittin' the mall with the Slayer- now that's somethin' I just dream about. Especially at high noon when I can get fried by any passing beam of sunlight. Fun."

"You don't know the half of it," Xander said, with an exaggerated and (mostly) faked shudder. "She's a shopping machine. If she ever turned her attentions towards the military instead of shoes, well, she'd be a general in no time."

"I'll look forward to it, then," Spike said, relaxed a little because of the teasing. Xander grinned at him, then turned to go to bed. Spike resisted the urge to call him back, and just said, "Goodnight."

Xander turned and looked at him for a moment, his gaze disturbingly acute. Then, he bent down and planted a swift kiss on Spike's forehead.

"Goodnight, Spike," he said, still with that observant look, and went into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

Spike turned off the telly and sat in the abrupt darkness, wondering why he suddenly felt so alone.


	4. Feminism

**Part Four: Feminism

* * *

**

When Xander woke up, it was still dark.

He blinked fuzzily, realizing that he couldn't have been asleep more than half an hour, and wondering what had woken him up. He heard a creak in his doorway, then, and his glance shot to the area in question, adrenaline kicking in. Late-night visits were generally a bad thing, Sunnydale or otherwise.

"Relax," a vaguely familiar voice said. "It's just me."

Xander relaxed, recognizing Spike. Female Spike, of course, but still Spike. Xander would know him anywhere.

"What's wrong?" he asked, since suddenly gender-switched vampires didn't usually come stand in the doorway to his bedroom without a reason, in his experience. Which was admittedly nil, but he still knew Spike fairly well, enough to guess that something was wrong.

"Couldn't sleep, was all," Spike said, his voice sounding suspiciously hoarse. "Didn't mean to wake you. I'll leave you alone." A sniff followed his last words, and Xander knew, with a horrible kind of certainty, that Spike had been crying.

Oh yeah. Like his life wasn't weird enough.

"C'mere," he said, surprising himself with the invitation as he said it. Spike hesitated, but Xander scooted over, pulling the bedcovers back in invitation.

"I won't bite," he said with a little grin that he knew Spike could see, even in the dark. "Don't hog the covers, though, or I might have to take drastic action."

Still Spike hesitated. "What're you doin', Harris?" he asked, and Xander shrugged.

"A little comfort, is all. You don't need to get to worried about it. I'll even pretend it didn't happen when we wake up."

"I don't need-"

"Spike," Xander said, his patience abruptly expiring. He was _exhausted._ "I'm tired. You're tired. You're obviously not going to fall asleep out there. You probably will here, and if nothing else, you might relax a little. I'm not going to take your vamply virtue, and I'm not going to make a big deal about it later. I will make a big deal about it if you don't get your butt over here and let me go to sleep. Savvy?"

"Yeah, yeah," Spike muttered, but he did come over and crawl into bed beside Xander. "Happy now?"

"Delirious," Xander said, then rolled over and went straight back to sleep.

* * *

Spike was twitchy when they woke up a few hours later, but Xander did his best to pretend like nothing happened. Maybe it hadn't been his best idea, literally inviting Spike into bed with him, knowing that Spike wasn't dealing well with his female self as it was. But it had been really, really late, and Spike had been wigging, and Xander hadn't been able to think of any other way to deal at that hour with as little sleep as he'd had. His ability to reason had not significantly improved, but then again, he'd only had a couple hours of sleep and the coffee wasn't ready yet. Maybe in another ten minutes.

Ten minutes later, he still wasn't sure what the hell to do with Spike. Besides taking him to the mall, of course, where Buffy would take over and subsume him in her quest for the Perfect Shoe. She'd tried with Xander once, but being a guy, it hadn't worked. Spike was more at risk now.

Wait. Was the chauvinistic? Probably at least anti-feminist. Cordelia used to tell him that he was a Neanderthal, and didn't he know that Women's Lib had happened, or something? Then again, Cordelia herself had been all hyper-feminine and Homecoming Queen and a cheerleader… Though maybe _that_ thought was anti-feminist. And what about Buffy? She was into shopping and big into the girly-girl thing, but she had the girl power thing going on…

"You have the weirdest look on your face," Spike said, interrupting his train of thought. Xander glanced up from his cup of coffee to see Spike staring at him, head cocked to the side in a classic Spike gesture. The movement called attention to the long, smooth line of his throat, and Xander found himself getting distracted again.

"Hmm?"

"What were you thinking just then?"

Xander knew that Spike meant before, but he couldn't help flushing a little. Hoping that Spike didn't notice, he said, "I was just thinking about feminism." Spike gave him an odd look, and he added, "And if I'm anti-feminist."

"You're the weirdest bloke I've ever met," Spike said. "You dated _Anya,_ then stayed friends with her when you broke up. One of your best friends is a witch and a lesbian. The other takes chick empowerment to an extreme. And you're worried about being anti-feminist?" Spike snorted. "Harris, you should be worried 'bout it bein' the other way 'round. You're almost as much of a bint as I am."

"Thanks, Spike," Xander said sarcastically. "I have to remember to share more of my thoughts with you in the future, so you can make me feel great about myself." Wondering why the hell he even bothered, Xander detached himself from the counter he was leaning on and made as if to leave the kitchen.

"Hey," Spike said, halting him in his tracks. He turned around to see Spike standing there in his ill-fitting clothes, staring at Xander with eyes that were way too big and blue and vulnerable. "I didn't mean it, yeah? Just… rattled, is all."

Xander sighed, but he returned to his spot by the counter. "I know. And I know that I should be more sensitive or whatever, but I haven't had my coffee yet. So I would really appreciate it if you would try to pretend that you don't hate me, just until this is over."

"I don't hate you," Spike said, looking at him strangely. "You're alright, for a Scooby. Most of the time, I'm just takin' the piss. Don't mean anything by it."

Xander sighed and leaned his head against the fridge. "Alright. You don't hate me. And I thought my life was weird before you came to stay here." He shook his head and sighed. "At least this will all be over in a couple of days."

Spike looked at him seriously, which was seriously weird. Spike never looked at Xander as if he'd done something clever, because he was always too busy being mocking.

"Thanks," he said. Xander gave him a confused look, and Spike clarified, "For not saying that I brought this on myself, or making stupid jokes, and for telling me that it's going to be over soon. It helps."

"Spike, it is going to be over soon," Xander said, as if talking to an exceptionally stupid child. "I wouldn't have said it otherwise."

"I know," Spike said, and leaned over to give him a quick kiss in his cheek. "That's what I meant."

He was gone before Xander could react with anything other than complete and total stupefaction.

Had Spike really just... _kissed_ him?

Weird.


End file.
